Little Kilton

While my husband, Gerald Brown, was abroad negotiating a business deal, he was drugged and spent the night with a female secretary from a rival company. The drug’s side effects scrambled his memory so badly that he forgot who I was. He kicked me out of the master bedroom and let the secretary smash my grandmother’s heirloom. I told myself he was sick and stayed silently by his side. But when I suggested taking him for a medical checkup, he hit me for the first time. “Who do you think you are? Only Ailey is allowed to touch me. If she gets jealous, you’ll regret it.” When the secretary framed me, he pushed me down the stairs, and I suffered a miscarriage. Late one night, when my heart condition flared up, I went to his study for medicine but overheard him talking to his friend outside the door. “Faking amnesia to bring Ailey home is one thing, but why replace your wife’s heart medication? Now, she’ll never return to the hospital for surgery.” Gerald just chuckled. “If I don’t keep her weak, she’ll go to the hospital and check the hospital records and find out I was never drugged. Ailey’s been timid since childhood and even went undercover for me in a rival company. I can’t betray her.”

Before my wedding, my future sister-in-law diagnoses me with cervical erosion. She insists it's because of my promiscuity. My boyfriend arranges for my sister-in-law to operate on me without my permission. After the surgery, I find that my womb is missing. I'm furious, and I want to know what's happened. However, my boyfriend berates me. "It's perfectly normal for Kate to make a mistake since it was her first surgery. You're her sister-in-law—stop making a big deal out of a small thing!" I refuse to settle the matter privately and call the cops. That's when my boyfriend secretly murders me via poisoning for the sake of his sister's future. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to before the surgery.

Jena Gavin Vance, 25, breaks the law of trespass when she attends a billionaire’s party in a club house at an undisclosed location. Only then does she realize she has stepped into the upper region of the city where the law is not in her favor. Apprehended by gang members of an underground auction club who happened to find out that she’s a rogue, Jena is forced to be a poe dancer. But when she refuses, she's listed as one of their merchandise in their quarterly underground auction. She doesn't know what fate has in store for her until the infamous mafia boss and lycan, Lorenzo Dante, bids $50,000,000 on her head. She's saved from becoming a tool for the auction house; however, one thing lingers in her nind. Why would the lycan king bid an unfathomable $50,000,000 on a mere omega like her?

On the day of our wedding, Liam Hopkins’ childhood sweetheart stood by the bridge, threatening to take her own life. The moment he hung up the phone, he was ready to leave. Desperately, I clung to his sleeve. “Liam, if you walk out that door, it’s over between us!” “Diana! This is a matter of life and death. I’ll marry you, but don’t make a scene!” With those words, he turned and rushed away, leaving me standing alone. Determined, I spun around and completed the wedding vows with another man. But later, he dared to ask why I didn’t wait for him. I laughed coldly. “Belated love? It’s cheaper than dirt.”

Before my engagement, a fire broke out in my dressing room. The explosion sent shards of glass deep into my body. My best friend, Monica Addams, shielded me as we escaped the flames.  At the hospital, she stayed by my side as I clung to life.  She called my fiancé, James Miller. However, his response was dismissive. “Veronica isn’t feeling well, and I’m accompanying her to get an IV drip. If it’s no big deal, just drop it.” Furious, Monica unleashed a string of curses and called her own boyfriend, Lucas Smith, asking him to help find a specialist.  He brushed her off, too. “Stop overreacting. Veronica’s sick, so I’m getting her some medicine.” When I narrowly escaped death and met Monica’s gaze, I said in a low voice, “I want to call off the engagement.” Without hesitation, she responded, “If you end yours, I’ll end mine.” That was when both men panicked. 

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

I'm admitted to the hospital for gastritis, but my boyfriend shoots to his feet after receiving a call. "Chelsea has a fever. I'll go check on her; I'll be right back!" He runs off without waiting for me to say anything and doesn't return for the rest of the night. That night, I see a short clip that Chelsea Calloway has shared. "I'm not afraid of any illness with you by my side." I comment, "He is pretty good at caring for others."

As a hopeless romantic and a trusting fool, I never saw it coming. The man who once swore he loved me to the bone ended up in bed with the very girl I had been supporting—a poor, sickly girl who played the part well. He didn’t stop there. He convinced me to donate my kidney to save her, knowing full well it meant losing our unborn child. Together, they wove a twisted plan to rob my family of everything, drowning us in insurmountable debt. In the end, my mother and I had nowhere to turn but the rooftop. The last thing I saw before jumping was a flood of crimson, and the agony that consumed me was unforgettable. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back—ten minutes before I made the fateful decision to help that girl. This time, things will be different.

The day my ex finally made it big, the doctor told me I had less than three months to live. On TV, a reporter was interviewing James Larson. “Mr. Larson, what drove you to success?” James chuckled, but his eyes were misty. “The biggest push? Probably when I was diagnosed with kidney disease eight years ago, and my ex walked out on me.” “I’m grateful she didn’t marry me. That was the wake-up call I needed.” After the interview, he called. “Amelia Simmons, I made it. Do you regret it now?” I rested a hand on the spot where my kidney used to be and let out a bitter laugh. “I do. And I have cancer now. Happy?” James sounded satisfied. “Serves you right.” He never knew—I got cancer because I gave him my kidney all those years ago.

My fiancé suddenly announces he's marrying my sister instead. And just as my world collapses, the cold, noble Twinkle Oriven kneels before me with a diamond ring in hand. He confesses he's loved me for years. We get married. For three years, he's gentle, considerate, and flawless in every way. Then, one day, I accidentally overhear a conversation between him and a friend. "Twinkle, Amelie has everything she has ever wanted. Isn't it time to end this fake marriage?" "Since I can't marry Amelie, it doesn't matter who I marry. All that matters is that it keeps her life undisturbed." In the chapel where he prays every day, the wallpaper is covered with one name—Amelie Ashcombe. I hear him pray to the heavens. "May all the good in the world belong to Amelie. I'd trade my own happiness for her peace and joy. I don't ask to have her in the next life… I just want her to remember me." So this is the truth behind three years of a seemingly perfect marriage. I erase my identity and stage a fake death. From now on, Twinkle and I are nothing.